


Picking Up

by greyscalemuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Assisted Masturbation, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Joltolock, Late Night Booty Call, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Smutty Ficlet, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 08:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6949582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalemuse/pseuds/greyscalemuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to invite Major Sholto over. John insists that he wouldn't be interested. A single phone call proved him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picking Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by an ask about who would make the late night booty call. It was supposed to be a simple answer. It turned into this. Of course, I'll be returning soon with another part of Two Soldier Boyfriends, but I hope this will help sate your Joltolock thirst in the mean time!

It starts with a late night call from John. He hangs up after the first ring. James returns the call, but John’s too nervous (and not nearly drunk enough) to answer. Sherlock does it for him.

“Who’s number is this?”

“John’s.”

There’s a beat of a pause before James’ ventures forward in his line of questioning. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Very astute, Major.”

“Do you know why he would be calling?”

“I’m not entirely sure. He didn’t say, but if I were to guess, he would like to have dinner with you.” Sherlock bats John’s hands away when he tries to wrestle the phone back. John’s stronger, but Sherlock has the height advantage - and a conveniently positioned ball to his foot that he flexes just so to make John sputter and fall back.

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Mm…” Sherlock hums an affirmative as he wriggles his toes against John in a way that makes the flush to his cheeks burn a bright red. “Then maybe it’s not food he’s hungry for.”

Sherlock’s ministrations help bolster John’s confidence. His second attempt to overthrow the taller man ends in success, with Sherlock’s thighs around John’s hips and heels pressed into his backside. His grip to the phone jars loose as John rolls his hips forward, making Sherlock choke on a moan. John catches the phone before it tumbles to the floor and brings it to his ear.

“James? Sorry. Let me clarify,” John clears his throat, fighting the tightening panic in his chest before he forces out, “I have a very unruly, gorgeous, and horny man beneath me and I think I need help taking care of him.”

Another beat of silence that makes John’s ears ring in trepidation before a deep, rich chuckle filled them.

“Can you give me an hour?”

John closes his eyes and exhales a near silent sigh of relief. He opens and lifts his eyes to meet Sherlock’s to find a smugness that he has an intense desire to wipe off thoroughly. He smirks and replies.

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

He ends the call and tosses the phone to the coffee table. He grips Sherlock by the hips and pulls him close, laughing at the purr in his ear.

“So was I right?”

“Yes - you were right. Insufferable bastard. How am I going to deal with you for a full hour?”

Sherlock nuzzles John’s temple as his arms wind around him. “Think, Captain. I’m sure something will come to mind.”

But imagine James’ surprise when he’s greeted at the door with a very satisfied John and Sherlock, stripped to nothing from the waist down, wrists bound behind his back by the sash of his dressing gown, with his legs propped open and spread wide up on the arms of his chair.

James steps in and eyes the squirming, near sobbing, detective, his top teeth catching his bottom lip before he looks back to John, seeking permission.

John gestures with a flourish and smirks, “Your turn, Major.”

 

James drops to his knees in front of Sherlock, watching as the other man’s eyes spark, an angelic smile twisting onto his lips, his unruly curls falling around his face in a brunette halo of debauchery. James leans in and presses a kiss to Sherlock’s top lip, then to the bottom before drawing him, kissing him thoroughly until his mouth is pink and Sherlock is left gasping. His tongue darts out as James pulls away, trying to bring him back like a parched man chasing away a few drops of water. Rich, deep laughter fills James’ chest as he pushes Sherlock’s hair back forehead and whispers into his skin.

“Now John said something about needing help with an unruly, gorgeous, horny man… but if my eyes aren’t failing me, it looks like you’ve been thoroughly fucked already… so… explain to me. Why am I here?”

Sherlock sucks in a sharp breath, slumping down into his chair as James teases his hole with the tip of his finger. His cheeks begin to burn as he looks down between his legs to see his cock start to twitch back to attention. He blinks back into coherency, though barely, his knees threatening to slip off the arms of the chair. He gasps as his right knee gets caught by James’ wrist, his lower calf brought up to rest on the taller man’s shoulder - and he lifts his eyes to catch the look of sinful delight as Sherlock’s muscles flutter around James’ index finger as it slowly pushes in to the knuckle.

Sherlock clears his throat, his lower back curving just slightly into the touch, still-fresh come dripping downward and momentarily derailing his line of thought. He falters on the words, stuttering on syllables as he clumsily navigates through speech, “J…J-ahn!” He sucks another breath in through his teeth and releases it in a short hiss, “… I deduced that you were far… far… from reserved in your sexual preferences… and would not be… at all deterred by an invitation to… to… join us in our own exploits. John… disagreed… so… I had him call you to… to prove… prove… _prove…”_  Sherlock’s voice drops down in pitch first before trailing on a breath that hitches on a moan as James starts to scissor two fingers into Sherlock’s already stretched hole - he seems enamored with watching the come slide down in between his cheeks.

“Prove him wrong?” James offers with a smile. He shoots a look over his shoulder to see John settled in his chair across from them, lips parted slightly, tongue darting quickly across his bottom lip as he watches enamored by the sight of his former superior fingering his completely blissed out boyfriend. James turned back and leans in, his voice a soft rumble brushing past Sherlock’s ear,  “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s willing to share a beauty like you. I never thought of John Watson to be particularly generous in that regard.”

“Then I suppose we both found out something new about each other, isn’t that right James?”

John’s hands catch Sherlock by the shoulders as James expertly maneuvers him onto his knees in front of where John is sitting. Sherlock teeters forward slightly, anchored only John’s grip on him and the tight grasp James has on the dressing gown sash that still tightly binds Sherlock’s hands.

Sherlock slowly sinks, guided downward so his cheek rests on John’s thigh, nuzzling the worn fabric of the pajama bottoms John had hastily pulled on upon James’ arrival. They smell of John - of sweat and linen scented soap with hints of something spicy and just pure John - and it’s enough to make Sherlock groan and bury his nose into the crease of John’s groan and inhale deeply. His eyes skew upwards as he feels a set of fingers card through his curls. He hears James pull away, listens as articles of clothing are slowly and carefully removed and fall to the ground. His eyes dart to the side to see John’s flaccid cock begin to stir and wets his lips, sucking in a breath as the back of his dressing gown is pushed up, bunching up with his tee shirt and exposing his bare arse to the air.

He forgets basic functions like breathing and his heartbeat as his brain sends out a pulse of sensory pleasure that sizzles through him with that first thrust. James slides all the way into Sherlock, huffing a quiet chuckle before he pistons his hips back and the forward again rapidly, a satisfying sound of skin against skin making Sherlock whine and John shift just slightly.

“And how many times did you let him fuck you today?”

Sherlock’s answer comes out in short, quiet grunts as his chin slips in between John’s legs, resting against the chair cushion as his nose is pressed up against John’s crotch. “Tw… twice.”

He closes his eyes and inhales again, the smell of John making his mind swim in its own incoherence. He makes a desperate whimper when James pulls out, jerking Sherlock upwards by his wrists and pulling his body flush against his chest. Sherlock’s eyes refocus on John, who is shaking his head.

“John is signalling that you’re lying, Sherlock. Are you lying?”

Sherlock shakes his head, gasping and desperate, flicking his gaze downwards to watch as John pushes down the pajama bottoms, the tip of his erection springing free.

“Let me clarify,” the gravely voice of the Major grinds into his ear, making his knees slip forwards, John reaching out to steady him so he stays upright. James’ breath his hot against his neck, his cock pressed against the crease between his cheeks, and Sherlock looks down at his own erection, so hard and weeping between his legs, the slightly chilled air offering no relief. He sobs in frustration when James speaks again, “If you want me to keep fucking you, you’re going to have to be honest. So let’s try this again… how many times have you let John fuck you in the _past 24 hours_?”

In a quiet, trembling voice, Sherlock answers. “F… four.”

Sherlock sees John nod just before he’s bent over again, head back in John’s lap, gentle hands running through his sweat soaked hair. James’ voice is soft when he speaks again. “Four times and you’re still not satisfied. How does John keep up with you?” Just as Sherlock is about to beg, James thrusts back in, eliciting a pleasured sigh. “Do you like John’s cock, Sherlock?”

“Yes..” Sherlock swallows, wetting his throat, before he swipes his tongue across his lips. He closes his eyes and moans softly as James fucks him slow and steady with long pauses as he pulls back and sharp thrusts forward. “But… your cock… your cock feels so good, Major Sholto…”

The short bout of laughter, dark and deep and soft, shoots a shudder down Sherlock’s spine and he struggles to tighten himself around James. “I can see why John would want to fuck you four times. Listening to the world’s only consulting detective… the brilliant Sherlock Holmes…” James pauses when Sherlock’s breath hitches, taking his time sliding back into Sherlock, watching as the man beneath him writhes and gasps and sobs again. “Reduced to a needy… little… slut…”

The way James whispers ‘slut’ makes Sherlock buck and his eyes roll back as a sharp dart of pleasure dashes straight to his still neglected cock. Fingers hook under his chin, lifting his head from between John’s legs until he is eye level with John’s erection. He extends his tongue, trying to catch some precome on the tip, but just out of reach. He whines in frustration, licking his lips as John shifts and pushes his pajama bottoms further down.

“Do you want that in your mouth?”

Sherlock tries to only nod, his voice becoming coarse against his throat, but he yelps his answer James thrusts hard against him in a way that makes his thoughts go dizzy and blur. He opens his mouth wide, as John anchors him by the hair, and he whimpers in protest when the other man teasingly strokes himself. He sucks greedily at the tip as it hits his lips, his tongue curling around the head, reveling in the taste and texture. John’s grip shifts to the back of Sherlock’s neck, guiding him downward as Sherlock surrenders, stretching out his mouth and relaxing his throat as John hits the back of it.

As his nose hits the base and he inhales, body thrumming at the strong smell, he feels James’ pace pick up. His moans and pleas are muffled by the cock filling his mouth and he feels as if his entire body may vibrate into nothing. John moves his head, helping him bob along the length. Each sound John and James make above him only coils tighter inside him, but release remains just out of reach and he feels himself weeping from the pressure.

John pulls back so his mouth pops off with a slurp, but Sherlock barely can process it now that James is relentlessly pounding into him, he hardly registers his own voice, wrecked and broken, softly pleading, “Harder… harder… come inside me… oh please…” his breath shudders as he tries to draw it in and the moan comes out choked as he feels that first hot spurt shoot deep inside him. 

Sherlock barely notices James pulling out until he flipped onto his back. He can feel the warm, fresh come dribble out of him as his stretched out hole flutters and clenches. His head falls back on James’ lap and he spreads his legs invitingly to John, but his eyes stay fixed on James’ face with John’s first thrust inwards. He watches as the Major’s lips curl into a vicious smile, watching John fill Sherlock up and fuck him hard and slow. James pulls Sherlock’s tee-shirt further up, exposing his chest and plucking at one small, tight nipple until Sherlock is bucking his hips and meeting each of John’s thrusts.

“Sherlock… have you been a good little slut?”

“Ye… yes…”

“Do you deserve to come?”

“Y… yes… yes please….”

“Stop struggling,” James growls in a command that makes Sherlock’s vein attempts at pulling at his restraints still. He looks back up at James with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for permission. “Repeat after me…”

“W… what?” Sherlock croaks out, eyes rolling back again before he tries to blink himself back into focus.

“I said. Repeat. After. Me.”

Sherlock barely manages a nod, choking again on his own voice as John’s shifts just right and picks up pace. He strains to listen as James begins to speak again.

“I… Sherlock Holmes… famous and brilliant consulting detective…” Sherlock parrots the words back, his sentence broken by gasps and moans. “Am a greedy… needy… slut.”

“Am a… a…” Sherlock bursts into a cry as James twists lightly at his nipple, making Sherlock arch into John’s hands. “A greedyneedyslut…” his words come out in a burst as he looks at John between his legs, his ankles pressed against his shoulders, John’s eyes fixed hungrily on James’ face as he speaks, only to bring his gaze to Sherlock to watch him recite James’ depraved litany.

“And I come… when I am told…”

Sherlock was nodding frantically in agreement as he whispered back, “And I come when… when I am told…”

He whines again at another twist to his nipple, accompanied by the command to speak loud enough to be heard. “And… AND!” Sherlock’s voice pitched higher as James’ fingers tightened around his nipple and he exclaims, “I come! When I am told!”

Fire sears Sherlock’s nerve endings as he feels John come inside him. He pulls Sherlock up close to him, their chests meeting as John holds him, thrusting up into him three more times as he rides out his orgasm. Sherlock’s body is limp, save for his dick, which still throbs in needy desire, and he finds himself begging over John’s shoulder.

“Please… please let me come…”

“Shhh… shh…” both John and James hush him gently, John wiping the tears from Sherlock’s face while James frees Sherlock’s hands. “Good man,” James whispers. “You’ve been so strong. You can come.” He helps Sherlock off of John’s cock, helping him settle between both of them. Both he and John rub the numbness out of Sherlock’s arms and assist his hands to settle around his cock, wrapping his fingers around it. John presses a kiss to Sherlock’s lips before he nods to James for the approving command. James provides it.

“Come on, good man… make yourself come.”

Sherlock looks down as he weakly starts to jerk himself off, his wrists held by John and James, guiding him. Sherlock digs his heels into the floor and starts to buck upwards, his own body’s desire to reach climax outweighing it’s need for rest. He gets lost in the kisses exchanged between the three of them, John reaching down and cupping his balls, while James pulls his hand away to play with Sherlock’s come covered hole with the tips of his fingers.

Sherlock’s chin his John’s shoulder as he finally feels that first bit of relief, his orgasm spurting forth in white ribbons that coat his fingers and his belly and his chest. He slumps between them both, his hands falling away, leaving them to help chase the aftershocks until Sherlock is completely spent.

He is barely conscious as James helps John move him to the couch, strip him of the rest of his clothes, and use his ratty tee shirt to help wipe him off. His vision remains unfocused by he hears as James begins to gather his clothes and get dressed, and John’s quiet pleas that follow him.

“Please stay. He’ll want you to stay… I want you to.”

Sherlock closes his eyes and smiles as he hears the sound of their lips touching, and the kiss that deepens as they meet. He hears as they stumble and fall together against the desk, years and years of repressed feelings bubbling forth in a long awaited renewal of an old relationship that never reached full fruition. And his heart drops when he hears James pull away and whisper. “I have to. I have to get back. I can’t have anyone notice that I’ve left. It’ll just cause trouble.”

Sherlock musters all he can to reach out and grasp at James’ coat cuff as he passes by. “Please…” he croaks. “Come back.”

He closes his eyes and sighs in relief as James leans down and presses a kiss to his temple, pushing his hair back and runs his fingers through it and whispers to both him and John.

“You have my number.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more Joltolock content (and tiny sneak peeks into the world of TSB), feel free to follow me on Tumblr: http://coloringthegreyscale.tumblr.com/


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